Nifty.org - Frankie and His Girl

Frankie and His Girl Part I resubmission of story to go with Part II) Part I TG/teen When I was fifteen, I had a friend named Frankie who lived across the street. Frankie was a couple months shy of his thirteenth brithday. He was a little stocky and still sported some baby fat. He hard dark, curly hair. I was taller and very slender, almost frail. I had dark blond hair, and it was longish and fine.

Every so often, Frankie would smile mischievously and say, "You're pretty." I just smirked and took this as some preadolescent silliness and let it ride. I had been called cute once or twice, but never 'pretty'. Naturally one of the subjects he had a growing curiosity about was sex. One Tuesday evening, we were alone in his bedroom looking through some of his dad's porno magazines. They weren't the typical Penthouse or Playboy magazines, but cheaper more hard-core stuff showing explicit pictures of naked women, leaving nothing to the imagination, mostly motorcycle sluts and that sort of thing. My parents didn't have that kind of magazine around, so I managed to get off with catalogs that had lingerie sections showing women modeling underwear.

Being sexual with a female still seemed a far off experience for me - I didn't mingle a lot in school -- so I fantasized about what seemed more realistic: stealing a girl's panties after she'd just worn them and putting them on. But I didn't have a sister and wasn't bold enough to do that to a neighbor, so that went on the back burner, too. I just looked at the catalogs and masturbated. After Frankie and I were halfway through the second crumpled magazine, Frankie suddenly asked me if I jacked off. This wouldn't have made me so embarrassed if he had never told me I was 'pretty', but because I knew he just might have some kind of an underlying attraction for me, this kind of talk made me nervous. I guess I was afraid Frankie had some sort of pre-adolescent sexual confusion that made him view me as a kind of girl substitute.

So I just nodded and said, "Yeah, I jack off," and turned the next page. "Can you make white stuff?" he asked, his face almost in mine. I nodded. "Yeah." I gulped because of the direction the conversation was going, and because privately a part of me wanted to go there, too. Only three days before, I had been at my bedroom window and I saw Frankie sitting on his front porch wearing nothing but short-shorts and sandals and found myself staring at his smooth olive skin and the contour of his features. "How do you do it so something comes out?" he said, whispering now. "Like this?" He made a motion with his hand near his crotch as if masturbating. "Well, something like that," I replied. "Can you show me?" I grinned and blushed, shook my head. "I don't know, Frankie. "I don't know, Frankie.

You have to wait until you're a little older. You can't force it. Pretty soon it will happen." We went back to looking at naked women. After a couple minutes, Frankie asked me, "Could you show me how a guy and a girl do it?" "Do what?" "You know, have sex?" "Well," I said. "The guy lies down on the woman and sticks his penis inside her. "Show me." "What do you mean show you? How can I show you?" "Like if I was the girl, what would you do?" He wanted me to demonstrate copulation. "Show me." "What do you mean show you? How can I show you?" "Like if I was the girl, what would you do?" He wanted me to demonstrate copulation.

For some reason, even though I had thought of Frankie in almost a sexual way last Saturday, there was nothing arousing about what he was asking me to do. And in spite of those few 'pretty' remarks he'd made about me, I concluded that his curiosity about sex tonight was that and nothing more. What's more, we were both fully clothed, wearing jeans, so I didn't think much of it. It would be merely clinical. So I had him lay down on his bed and I lay on top of him, rubbing my pelvic area against his in small mechanical thrusting motions. I could feel the small erection under his pants, and I felt a twinge of guilt having liked it a little.

I'm sure he liked it too. But we tried not to let on to each other we did. We both stopped before it went too far, and I didn't let on that I was aroused. That was the end of it. He went out to ride his bike and I went home. Not long after that, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, we were looking at magazines and he asked me to do it again.

This time I had no illusions I was teaching him anything new, I just wanted to do it for some reason. The feeling was building up faster this time, and so was the guilt, so I stopped after a few seconds, and Frankie seemed disappointed. "Why'd you stop?" he said. I just shrugged, hoping the red on my face didn't show. Then Frankie sidled up next to me and whispered nervously in my ear, "Wanna' whack off together?" I hesitated, but thought why not, there would be no contact there, and I was feeling horny. I said OK.

We unzipped our pants and took our penises out through our zippers. His was short but wide, his glans pink, like a rosy mushroom. We stroked ourselves watching each other while leaning back on the bed for a minute or two. Suddenly, Frankie said, "Can I play with yours?" His words came like a pleasant jolt. I was nervous, but horny, so I nodded. He took mine in his hand.

A rush went through me; I had never been touched there by anyone else before. He pulled gently on it a few times, then gave it little strokes outward. It instantly rose and became stiff. "Touch mine," he whispered eagerly. His was little and not quite erect at first, but it rapidly swelled and stiffened in my hand. The skin was downy and sleek.

We fondled each other for a moment and then began stroking each other. He fisted mine while I stroked his with my thumb and three of my fingers. At first I thought I wouldn't be able to cum doing it in front of someone else. But I was turned on by his soft hand and by seeing his own excitement grow as he pumped himself and stared down at my penis in his hand. This time a climax was just around the corner! Then of all things at all times, we were startled by the voice of Frankie's mother calling us down for dinner. Huffing, we stopped and quickly pulled up our pants zipped them.

We were alone in my room once after that, but too timid to start anything as long as anyone else was in the house. We both silently knew we had to be home alone. A week later, Frankie's parents went out for their anniversary dinner and dancing. Minutes after they left I came over to his house. We hadn't planned anything, so I wasn't sure it was still on his mind. "C'mon upstairs," he said. "C'mon upstairs," he said.

We raced up the stairs to his room. This time we lowered our pants down over our knees, and I could see more of him than I ever did before. I didn't think I could ever be attracted to a boy's privates, but I was. His pouch was small and almost flat against the base of his lower abdomen. His member was flaccid and swaddled in foreskin. Though wider than before, it still seemed pristine and innocent looking.

We fondled and stroked each other. Frankie's quickly stiffened and eagerly shed its layer of foreskin. He moved closer and fluttered the velvety tip of his chanterelle-like tumescence over and around my organs. Each light touch sent a tingling sensation throughout my groin. After a minute we got bolder and brought our genitals together, randomly poking and teasing and exploring each other's forbidden regions. It was new and exciting.

We were gasping. We pressed closer. Our sleek members glided together, and our pelvises met. A fire started down there and soon spread between my legs, and then burned up through my stomach. As if we knew what we wanted, we both went to the edge of the bed and sat beside each other. We pulled our pants down to our ankles.

He opened his smooth legs and guided me to lie forward onto him. My heart went wild as I lay over him, and it felt so good as my genitals and loins reveled in his. I moved very slowly and in short thrusts against him. At first, I tried to keep my penis pressed on his, but it slipped off to one side. I finally had to settle for letting it lodge in the crevice between his genitals and his leg, The skin of his small erection was slick, and his little pouch so soft. I stopped before reaching orgasm because I knew how I really wanted to be when I did.